Few people question James Lovelock’s status as a pioneer in the development of environmental awareness. His latest book Revenge of Gaia (Penguin 2006) returns to the difficulties of interpreting scientific evidence, making sense of the future and identifying ways we can (or can’t) influence it. Here academic Stephen Rowland, who reviewed the book for the London-based Future Cities Project, assesses its impact.

First impressions?

It’s given me plenty to think about. When I first read his earlier book on Planetary Medicine, I thought the whole idea of the Gaia metaphor was intriguing, and this book takes these ideas further, albeit in a rather scary way.

Lovelock describes himself as being both ‘green’ and a ‘scientist’. I guess that since others have criticised the idea that Earth is a life, on the grounds that this is not scientific, Lovelock is concerned that his readers should acknowledge him as a scientist. This doesn’t worry me too much since all sorts of people with quite contradictory theories claim they are scientists and that their opponents are not. Rather like Christians in that respect! Indeed, his claim that ‘Gaia resists explanation in the traditional cause-and-effect sequential language of science’ would, according to some scientists, rule him out as a scientist. I guess these are the scientists that he refers to as being ‘scientifically correct’. But, not being a scientist myself, I’m not really able to evaluate such arguments ‘scientifically’. Reason is good enough for me.

How does his book fit into the future cities debate?

His supposition that it is society’s ‘love affair with the city’ that is the cause of our problems – or rather the cause of Gaia’s problems – might not go down well in such quarters.

Like him, however, I also enjoy country life. But we obviously have some radically different views about what country life is and was. He refers to an ‘achingly beautiful world of 1800’. My reading of history leads me to quite a different conclusion: that in 1800 most people lived in wretched poverty in the cities and rural poverty was characterised by many living on the edge of subsistence with little freedom from the control of those who owned the land. I agree with him that things don’t always get better, but to say that aesthetically, morally or politically things have got worse since 1800 makes me wonder if this is not a rather ‘elderly’ viewpoint, if he’ll excuse me saying so.

Also, our aesthetic of the countryside is different in other ways. Lovelock considers the new electricity generating windmills to be an eyesore, but makes no complaint against electric pylons marching across the countryside. I differ. I don’t like the pylons much and it seems to me that windmills are much more ‘natural’, whatever that means. At least, what they are doing is waving their arms around in the natural wind, reminding me that the forces of nature are both great and useful.

But more importantly I really think his view of nature fails to recognise the extent to which humans have created the countryside we know, at least in England. The suggestion that those born before 1950 would have seen the world ‘in its natural state’ is extraordinary. Even the desolate moors that I know so well are the consequence of humans stripping away the forests that preceded them. And views of rustic charm are all man-made consequences of the practical struggle to make a living off the land. They are often also the selective perception of the privileged who prefer to ignore rural poverty.

Does he break new ground?

There are some ideas he puts forward here that are important and need to be said. For example, Lovelock exposes the argument against banning DDT and introduces what appears to be some good sense into the issue of acid rain. In developing these arguments he appears to rely upon the kind of cause-and-effect reasoning that he disparages amongst the ‘scientifically correct’. But never mind. It works well.

The ideas put forward for new forms of energy are interesting too – although I would need some persuading to eat synthetic roast beef and Yorkshire pud.

The arguments against some of the excesses of the green movement point to the dangers that are created by a climate of fear. I think he’s right here. I’m tempted to say that the increasing climate of fear may be an even greater danger than increasing warmth. And perhaps an even more difficult climate to correct. However, it seems to me he is in danger of feeding the very fear he warns us about. It’s in this respect that I am particularly struck by his latest book.

The title – The Revenge of Gaia – sets the scene. I get pretty scared when threatened with revenge. It’s a powerful emotion that resists rational or scientific argument. The idea that the mother God Gaia, which is the Earth, can take revenge on me (her child?) sounds like a pretty powerful inducement to be afraid. What is the Gaia whose revenge we should fear?

Lovelock appears to acknowledge that life means different things in different contexts. A live circuit to an electrician is alive in a different sense than that in which a patient may be alive to a doctor. And different again from the sense in which we might say in politics that Marxism is (or is not) still alive and well. So he is saying that Earth is an ‘alive’ organism in a metaphorical sense, what aspects of life does he have in mind?

So is this about life or death?

Lovelock claims that the Earth is at, or very near, a ‘tipping point’ beyond which it will be unable to sustain itself. This is based on scientific evidence, but can only be provisional. Since the Earth is a unique system in our experience – unlike fashions and epidemics – we could not really know that a tipping point had been reached until it had started to tip, by which time it’s too late to do much about it. So we need to heed his warning, but with a degree of scepticism. It reminds me of the claims in the 1980s that the world would soon run out of oil and then, just last week, I heard that some oil producers believed that the price of oil would fall by two thirds in the next decade because of vast new reserves that had been found.

But to return to his metaphor of the Earth as an alive being. If by this he means a complex system with certain characteristic responses and feedback mechanisms, and an ability to sustain itself within certain limits, that’s fine. But revenge seems to me to be a characteristic of a very different sort of system: indeed it is a particularly human characteristic. Electric circuits may be alive, but they don’t take revenge. This view of the Earth as a system which can exhibit revenge is explained by Lovelock’s statement that ‘our primary obligation is to the living Earth. Humankind comes second’. And elsewhere he says that the Earth has a ‘goal… to sustain habitability’, as if the Earth were a being with purposes.

Does he give us any sense of what we can do?

Lovelock’s view of life seems to be one which has a moral as well as material aspect. If his science is right and the Earth as a system is approaching its tipping point, he seems to be saying that the reason I should do something about it is not in order to enable mankind to survive, but in order to enable Planet Earth to survive. I have, according to him, an obligation to Gaia which is beyond my obligation to people. Put this way, it is beginning to sound fundamentalist or ideological. Might he not therefore be open to the same sort of criticism as he successfully raises against other ideologically motivated conservationists? It also sounds rather like religion. Since Gaia was a God, that presumably is what he intends.

Some may object to my fundamentalist interpretation. His views are certainly very different from those of many fundamentalist Greens. Lovelock puts forward a case for nuclear fuel, for example, which draws upon claims that are certainly unusual. Reports of increased genetic malfunction around the site of Chernobyl; the dangers of nuclear fallout; the problems with dealing safely with nuclear waste, all appear to be problems that he says are vastly exaggerated. That may be so – I cannot judge and must take into account the views of different ‘scientists’. But the religious tone of his primary obligation to Gaia makes me a little wary of accepting his version of science.

I may have sounded more critical than I would wish. I like big ideas and Lovelock has given us a big idea that can be very useful. When all’s said and done, Gaia is a figment of his lively scientific imagination. Science without imagination is of little value. But imagination can be dangerous.

Stephen Rowland is Professor of Higher Education at University College London.[email protected]

F1 is among the world’s most popular sports. It’s also going through an interesting time as arguments rage inside the industry as to whether F1 technology is about shaping the future of road vehicles or something altogether different. Indeed, it’s starting to look like a battle of engineering ideologies amongst manufacturers.

This show should give some context. Formula One is an intensely secretive industry that invests hundreds of millions of pounds every year on design and technology – with £500 million spent by the racing teams to sort their engines alone. This exhibition at London’s Design Museum claims to allow the public to examine the design innovations at the heart of the sport for the first time. Featuring iconic cars and compelling deconstructions of F1 technology. Did you know, for example, that an F1 car consists of over 10,000 components requiring 4,000 drawings and accuracy to within a tenth of a millimetre? We didn’t. As well as exploring the history of F1 design, the exhibition will explore how billions of pounds has been invested in design and technology in order to make the cars ever faster and safer.

We are based 20 minutes away so if you want to meet up after you've been along, drop us a line.

The Royal College of Art’s summer show, “Generation” showcases work from animation and architecture to conservation, interaction design and vehicle design.

Our own Joseph Simpson could describe for hours the Vehicle Design Department’s work. Highlights include the winners of this week’s Pilkington Awards. Jonathan Punter’s concept for a ‘Future Family Vehicle’, called Daedalus was praised for being designed from the inside out, to act as a place in its own right, rather than simply a vehicle. Simon Greaves’ gorgeous two seater, running on Segway gyroscopic wheels aims to split into two modules and was inspired, he claims, by the trend for eco-celebrities such as Gwyneth Paltrow and George Clooney. So think one sportscar which can separate in the middle – so the glamorous pair can each do their own thing earlier in the day and then turn up together at the Oscars in one car.

The Architecture show looks at the future of cities in various ways and Interaction Design questions how future technology will affect our lives (good and bad). There’s a debate on this very topic at the nearby Dana Centre on 29 June Details here.

Claiming to offer a fascinating glimpse into a brave new world of urban design, Future City “showcases seventy of the most radical and experimental architectural projects of the past fifty years which have challenged convention to radically shape and influence the way we live”.

The Architecture section of the Venice Biennale was established in 1980. A source of inspiration for anyone interested in our relationship with the built environment, the last Architecture exhibition took place in 2004 (Metamorph, directed by Kurt W. Forster). This time the International Architecture Exhibition, directed by Richard Burdett and dedicated to Cities, architecture and society, will take place from 10 September to 19 November, 2006. Obviously it's in Venice.

A short exhibition opens later this week by Central St Martins College’s industrial design group. Claiming to offer a unique perspective on what the mobile communication devices of the next 10-15 years might look like, the group reckons to have tapped into both the cultural and technological trends that reflect genuine concerns and experience of users.

The events and debates category on Re*Move highlights events that we're planning to attend, have attended or simply rate as worth seeing. It also aims to highlight and profile things going on right around the world that are likely to influence or address aspects of the future of movement. If you come across anything worth knowing about, contact us here.

Re*Move is a centre for views, links and insight into the future of movement. It’s published by The Movement Design Bureau and aims to appeal to those contributing in some way to the redesign of movement, not just as a response to factors such as congestion, environmental damage and political pressures, but because there is scope to do it better.

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I think the world neatly divides into people who are fascinated by the concept of ‘types’ and those who hate such categorisation of people. I love it, and can spend hours on the subject. Gladwell’s connectors, mavens and sales people really do exist and I can think of many successful creative teams that combine such elements. I could probably define most of the ways in which I work with people in some way like this – I am probably often a connector, a regular maven but rarely a salesperson. Finding the sales people is something I always have to do.

I’ve been hearing the phrase ‘tipping point’ quite a lot of late. And not just anywhere – BBC Radio’s Today Programme of all places, which is almost a royal endorsement of the concept. For anyone trying to understand how things change, how the future is formed and how people support or discourage that change, this book seems, on the cover, like you’ve struck gold.

Reading Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell coincided with a few other conversations. First, my friend (in marketing) did a Myers Briggs psychometric test. She’s an ENTJ, apparently, and was trying to work out what this meant for her. Second, a (marketing) director friend of mine recounted a senior training course a few years back where everyone got a copy of Gladwell’s book. Tipping Point was, for him, yesterday’s big story. A bit ‘dot com’, in the days when every graph grew exponentially. Well mostly it didn’t, but every MBA graduate thought they’d get lucky.

The business school vibe continues. I’ve spent years trying to interpret new innovations and turn them into meaningful concepts for the outside world, so found Gladwell’s tales of teams at Hush Puppies and edging brands across tipping points interesting and, on the surface, quite useful. Even the reference to Graham Allport’s descriptions of how the WW2 Chinese teacher rumour in the US was ‘leveled’ (details removed) then ‘sharpened’, are all great stuff and relevant to many situations. But a nagging doubt followed me throughout – that somehow his alleged miracles felt contrived and assembled together in a less than scientific manner.

I remain unconvinced that Gladwell has a theory. The book is presented as offering a new theory – that some kind of observable, potentially controllable tipping point occurs in all kinds of commercial and social situations. We have interesting observations and case studies to set the thing rolling, a natty idea on the kinds of people to have around to try and massage tipping points and then some examples of how smart people have controlled tipping points.

Part of the problem with some of his case studies is the blind adoration involved. While he presents the Sesame Street story as an imperfect development case, his description of Gore-Tex is unbelievably perfect – anyone in business knows that no organisation is without problems. His Airwalk case study is even worse – I have never read such a load of reverse engineered hindsight-driven management tosh. First, what is this case study doing following another (Hush Puppies) from the same sector? Oh, and am I alone in noticing that Airwalk had a groundbreaking collaboration with Goretex? A huge portion of this book might be based on a single, linear line of enquiry.

Linear isn’t something you could use to describe the chapter on suicide and smoking. This sits almost entirely separate from the rest of the book and its observations don’t adequately connect with his other theories. Was it a thesis he developed for a postgraduate project that somehow got glued on?

It gets naffer. His 150 person team barrier is an old management theory that runs and runs and is frankly old ground but it highlights how this book is partly management theory on the challenges associated with midsize company growth. When you start to get this, Gladwell’s study becomes remarkably transparent in its thinness. The Hush Puppy / Airwalk / Goretex thing feels like a client-driven or postgrad study on innovation in the footwear industry. The suicide and smoking stuff doesn’t really connect with the other theories and might have been another project. Same with the study on Sesame Street and Blue’s Clues. A take on New York’s crime trends is interesting but far from scientific. And then there’s standard issue discussion on growth stages of teams and businesses with some nice characterisation about the sort of people that drive innovative businesses. Business school boring, all wrapped in the natty tipping point idea.

Natty some of it may be, interesting some of it is, yet Tipping Point is assembled, shallow ad-industry fodder. Gladwell’s overall concept is blandly applicable in all kinds of situations. And there are some solutions in here that will sell consultancy or get you a promotion. You see, somehow a combination of connectors, mavens and salespeople will send your sales stratospheric. It has all the credibility of the exponential chart. And as I mentioned earlier, dot com style exponential growth is usually down to luck. One thing’s for sure – Gladwell got lucky when this book tipped.

Mark Charmer is director of The Movement Design Bureau. He reviewed Tipping Point for The Future Cities Project.